


Doomed Defence

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Tumblr fics [19]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Balon’s Rebellion, Gen, Greyjoy Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Rodrik knew his father’s rebellion would fail, he could only hope to defend his mother and baby siblings
Relationships: Rodrik Greyjoy & Alannys Greyjoy, Rodrik Greyjoy & Asha Greyjoy & Theon Greyjoy
Series: Tumblr fics [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774048
Kudos: 15





	Doomed Defence

Rodrick knew his father’s rebellion was doomed. He knew that there was a high chance that they would all be executed as traitors, even little Asha and baby Theon.

And mother. Mother who had protested the rebellion from the start, even when it made father angry. 

He would never admit it out loud, but Rodrick thought his mother was the bravest person he knew.

He’d been given command of the troops within the castle, the last line of defence for the family he had stashed in the lady’s chambers. He would hold the line, even if it killed him, would try and hold it long enough that one of the less vengeful and bloodthirsty lords would make it to shore.

He had heard what had happened to Elia Martell and her babes on the orders of Tywin Lannister, and he would do all he could to keep that fate from happening to his mother and siblings.

He did not know of Maron was alive or dead. Did not know if father was still breathing. All he knew was that he had to protect his mother and her babes. 

He did not particularly like Theon or Asha. They were too young. Too whiny. But mother loved them, and even Rodrick had to admit they could be amusing sometimes. 

“Steady.” He called out, his attention brought back to the present and away from thoughts of his mother as the sound of splintering wood began, “Let’s show these cocksucking greenlanders what it means to be Iron Born!”

His men cheered, the battlelust already racing through their veins, and Rodrick raised his axe with a grin. If he was to die then he would take as many greenlanders with him as he could.

His axe ripped into those who opposed him, spilling their life’s blood into the mud. The sound of dying men’s screams filled the air, and soon the usual stink of mud and salt was replaced with the copper tang of blood and the putrid stench of shit. 

His men fought well, for every one that fell, they took two greenlanders with them. But the greenlanders had the advantage of numbers, and slowly but surely, Rodrick’s force was whittled down.

His axe crossed with the sword a large man, one with fine armour, a man likely the Lord of those men attacking. Again and again their weapons clashed, until they finally locked together in a move that Rodrick could not break. 

His axe was ripped from his grasp, just as the sword was ripped from the lords. He barely had a moment to register it before he found himself on his back in the mud. 

The Lord was a largeman, heavily muscled, and he kneeled above him, pinning him to the floor. In his hand he held a sharp blade, one which could not pierce Rodrick’s armour, but which the man kept bringing down to try and find a weak spot. Rodrick struggles, but he could not throw him off, not when he was already weakened from the lack of food from the siege

Instead he reached for the dagger in his boot, the knife he kept there for this reason, but his hands closed on empty air. He had given that dagger to Asha earlier. Had given it to her as a last line of defence.

The blade came down again, and again, until finally it hit its mark. It pierced his chest, through the gap in his armour, and as he started to bleed out, Rodrick could only think of how thankful he was that there were no Lannister or Baratheon colours in sight. As much as he might despise the Riverlands and North, at least they were no child killers. 

His vision faded, his hearing dulled, and the last sound he heard before slipping into the blackness, was the splintering of the door to the tower which held his family.


End file.
